


A Million Worse Ways To Die

by Reis_Asher



Series: Mind Games [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Post-Game, UST, Voyeurism, connor is getting me into so much trouble, deviant in the bedroom too lol, flammable: handle with care, readers may spontaneously combust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank gets up in the middle of the night to use the restroom. Instead of Connor on standby, however, what he sees in his living room is a scene out of his wildest fantasies...





	A Million Worse Ways To Die

**Author's Note:**

> Shame? What is that, exactly? ;)

Hank grumbled as he woke and rolled over to look at the alarm clock. Four-thirty. Fuck. He needed to piss, badly, and he doubted he was going to get any more sleep before his six-thirty alarm went off. He kicked away the blankets and padded quietly across the bedroom floor, hoping not to wake Sumo who was asleep at the base of the bed. His naked feet sank into the carpet as he opened the door. He crossed the hallway, casting a glance over to the living room where he expected to find Connor in standby mode.

Except he wasn't waiting on standby. Connor was sitting in Hank's favorite chair by the computer. His eyes were closed, and his LED was glowing yellow, spinning as he processed data. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his naked, hairless chest to the air. Hank's eyes strayed down to notice his pants were unzipped, and the movement of his right hand revealed he was touching himself.

Hank didn't need to pee any more. His dick wanted another kind of attention and stiffened in his boxers. He backed himself up against the wall, realizing that if Connor opened his eyes, he'd spot Hank right away. It wouldn't be easy to explain away his tenting underwear or the sheen of sweat that had broken out on his forehead.

Hank didn't want to be caught. He wanted to see more of this private show and save it for his future fantasies. There could never be anything between a human and a free android, but he liked to dream there might be.

Connor was gorgeous. He was taking his time exploring his hard cock, caressing it with no seeming urgency. If Hank didn't know better, he'd have sworn the android was giving him a show. Connor bit his lip, stifling a tiny moan as he ran his thumb over the tip of his cock. A string of pre-cum stuck to his skin and he raised his thumb to his mouth, tasting his own semen like a sample at a crime investigation scene.

Hank's mouth was suddenly dry as a bone and he swallowed, fighting a cough that threatened to betray him. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was sure the sound of it was going to give him away, but Connor seemed oblivious, his angelic face twisted into an expression of wanton need that set Hank on fire. Whatever he was watching in that head of his, it was good.

Hank ached for Connor. It took every muscle in his body not to go over and beg to finish him. He wanted to worship Connor's cock with his hands, his mouth, the friction of his own cock. Wanted to sink his ass down onto Connor's length and make Connor come deep inside him. Needed to flip him over on the couch and press his cock into Connor's ass, fucking him senseless until Connor cried out his name like a prayer.

Hank reached into his boxers and touched his own dick. His breaths came fast, hot and ragged as he watched Connor's lips part slightly. He imagined that mouth wrapped around him and almost lost it right then. Connor sped up his rhythm, abandoning his exploration for a steady caress. He threw his head back as jets of cum erupted from his perfect cock, spilling all over his chest and stomach. Hank almost hit his head on the wall as he fell over the edge, drawing blood as he bit his lip to stay quiet through the powerful orgasm that rocked his entire body. His body still twitched and trembled as he crept the rest of the way into the bathroom and closed the door with a quiet thud. 

He slid down the back of the door, gasping for breath, his legs weak and shaking. Fuck, what was he doing? He'd invaded Connor's privacy, watched something that wasn't meant for his eyes. Connor could never be his—Hank looked old enough to be his father, for fuck's sake. Connor was an android—deviant perhaps, but that only seemed to make it worse. Connor was still finding out who he was. He didn't need Hank taking advantage of him with his perverted old man ways.

Hank picked himself up off the floor and used the toilet. He looked at himself in the mirror. He needed a drink, but starting this early was all but admitting he was an alcoholic. He washed his face, certain that Connor would pick up on the flush of his cheeks and know everything with one glance. Connor could never know of his secret desires. That was just how it had to be.

Hank opened the door and staggered across the hallway. "Oh, good morning Connor," he yawned, putting on a good show of sleepiness. "How are you?"

"I have been reading and watching movies," Connor explained. "I found the experience to be most… stimulating." He winked at Hank, and Hank realized with a lurch in his chest that Connor knew everything. Connor had seen him, perhaps even lured him out with the plan of tempting him all along. How long had he sat in that chair, teasing himself, waiting for Hank for get up?

No. That couldn't be true, could it? That was just him projecting his desires onto Connor, right?

Hank was left standing in the hallway with his mouth slightly open as Connor walked past him into the bedroom without another word. He thought about retreating into the bathroom to shower and think when he decided he was going to need that drink after all. He staggered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a cold beer. His heart pounded as he opened the bottle and tossed the cap in a nearby trash can, chugging the cold amber liquid until the bottle was empty. He set it on the counter and considered another one, but it wouldn't do to show up at the station drunk when he was going to be receiving another disciplinary record in his file for punching Perkins as it was.

He needed a cold shower and some time to think. Perhaps living with Connor wasn't going to be as easy as he'd imagined. He'd pictured domestic bliss, warm lazy summer afternoons on the patio with a few beers and good company. Instead, his body and mind were on fire, the battle for his soul every bit as intense as the battle for Detroit had been. Connor was under his skin, and he was suffocating. He needed to breathe. Breathe. In and out. Slowly.

He shuddered, cold sweat trickling down his back. Mental images flooded his mind, and he was surprised to find his body responding in kind like he was fifteen years old, not past fifty. Connor was going to kill him, but all things considered, he could think of a million worse ways to die.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed it! They are the soul of a writer and encourage me to write more by knowing what readers like and don't like.


End file.
